Tuesday, November 8, 2011

My Foxworth Coven blog tour, presented by Bewitching Blog Tours begins this Friday, November 11th! Please see the dates below, and I hope to see you on one of my visits.

I’ll be giving away books, and there will be several book reviews of the first and second Foxworth novels. As well, there are character interviews of the Foxworth Coven members, and some new tidbits about my newest series out with New Dawning International Bookfair, Master of Subservience.

Madam Clairette isn’t an average woman by anyone’s standards. She runs an unusual, multi-functional establishment that serves as a playground to both Doms and Subs, along with her carefully selected clients. Bethany’s boyfriend, Daniel, is confident he can bring Bethany into this world of primal sex and new adventures. But first, Bethany has to meet the Mistress of the house. Will Madam Clairette see the sensual beauty Daniel does, and allow the love of his life to accompany him into his universe?

Excerpt:

Madam Clairette cleared her throat. “Out of curiosity, when was the last time you had sex?”

Bethany’s heart took on a furious beat. Her inner thighs grew wet. She thought of the last time she’d indulgenced in carnal pleasures. Daniel had bitten his way up the spot where her leg met her hips, teasing her before moving to her core. When had that been? Oh, yes. “A week or so. Daniel cut me off when you told him you wanted to see me.”

“Oh, now that’s just cruel of him! But predictable. He had tough teachers.” Madam Clairette leaned back in her chair. “We’ll fix that soon enough, won’t we, Luke?” The blonde to the Mistress’ left nodded. “First, we have a few more aspects to go over. Not only do I provide an excellent environment for our subs, doms, and guests to pander to their fantasies, I have systems set in place to ensure everyone is kept happy at all times,” the Mistress said. “If something, anything, is stricken off the list of what you are willing to do, I can ensure it does not happen.”

“How can you make this promise?”

“Do you think my men are so nicely built just to ride? There will be at least one, if not two at every event, strictly there to closely watch everything and enforce my rules. They are knowledgeable in all their charges, and these two…” She waved toward the men at her back. “…will keep a special eye on you until you get into the swing of things. Everyone who enters my house is carefully screened, so we rarely have any problems.”

Madam Clairette reached into a drawer of her desk, and pulled out a beautifully carved wooden box, setting it down between them. “The contents of this box means of distinction between you, and the rest under my employ. My clients know on sight what they are permitted to do to you without having to ask.” She slid the lid open. She pulled out a thin jeweler’s box and handed it to Bethany.

The box revealed an antiqued silver necklace. The metal encased brilliant garnets within the elegant ivy pattern. The finely detailed design was expensive, the weight heavy in Bethany’s hand.

“It is yours to keep. The garnet symbolizes your submission, and how you’ll be identified by the others of this household. The contrasting sapphire is set in a strongly colored metal of gold, a representation of their dominance. I am sure you’ve seen Daniel wear it.”

“Yes, I have. I wondered why he always wore it, though never asked why.”

Her attention shifted to the necks of the men behind the mistress, noting Luke wore a masculine version of the red one. Keegan’s neck flashed with blue, the setting brilliant gold and the pattern of harsh points contrasting the softer version of silver ivy. It was a clear distinction.

The Mistress’ hand dipped into the drawer again, emerged with thirty or so colored bangles. A quick check to the men showed neither wore any.

“And these represent something you won’t do. For instance, do you take it in the ass?”

Keegan chuckled at the blunt question.

Bethany prided herself on her lack of reaction. She could be brash when she wished to be. “Yes.”

“Though you insinuated this before, would you care for more than one man at a time?”

“Yes. I have never had more than three, though I’m willing to trying new things,” Bethany said.

“What about women?”

“I’ve never been with a woman.”

The Mistress placed a yellow bangle in front of her. Ahh, negotiations. Bethany’s breath caught in her throat. Would this harm her chances?

“It doesn’t mean...”

“When and if you feel the need to change it, you are welcome to do so. No one will tell you differently. Give yourself time to adjust.”

“Thank you.”

“Absolutely no thanks needed,” Madam Clairette said. “If there is ever a problem, no matter how small, come and tell me. We will discuss and do what we can to solve it. My door is always open to you, for anything at all. I want your time here to be comfortable. Promise me that, will you?”

Bethany breathed a sigh of relief. The mistress had spoken as if she’d already been accepted. “I promise. I know I will love it here.”

Tuesday, October 18, 2011

A few days ago, I decided to do blackhead extraction—the proper and painful way, that takes forever and a lot of patience. Of course doing this in conjunction with plucking my eyebrows, I was relieved to be finished poking and prodding of myself.

But then, I woke up the next morning, I washed my face, to felt a pimple just beginning under the surface of my skin. The redness wasn’t there yet, but that tell-a-tale stiffness to the skin—right on the tip of my nose. With the Vampire ball in a week and a half, I knew I needed to do something more than wait around for it to spring up on me. And even though I had already gone through the masochistic routine of removing blackheads, for all my efforts, the pores I had extracted from don’t heal too fast. So, it was time to try something new.

Right before my wedding in August, I’d researched home remedies for facials, but I’d never got around trying most of them. But one stayed in my mind. The egg white mask. Simple, and the benefits—in theory that is—are endless. The egg is chock full of vitamins and minerals, and absent of the chemical ingredients I normally have reactions to. So, why not…I went back to the computer and looked it up.

The egg white mask can be used two different ways, but both methods I chose to take note of start off the same way. (Since I have only done this once myself, I do not endorse these methods, just passing long the bits and pieces of what I’ve read and the endless reviews of experimenters I poured over yesterday)

To start: crack one egg, and separate the yolk from the white into two containers (the articles I read said to throw out the yolk, but DON’T! I researched an idea to use the whole egg, and I’ll get into that later…) Beat the egg white with a fork until very light and frothy.

***To brighten, tighten pores and induce collagen production. (I did read somewhere that prolonged use of egg white will whiten/lighten the skin. Keep this in mind, should you try to use these methods)

Wash face with your favorite face wash.

Apply egg white to face (and neck if you want) in an even thin layer, avoiding eyes and mouth. Leave on for 15-20 minutes **do not exceed 30 minutes**

Wash face again with face wash to remove residue. Moisturizer is optional, though I didn’t apply any, so I could assess the effect on its own.

Cut/tear up tissue paper into squares and/or strips (enough to cover face). Apply egg white to the face (and neck if you want) in an even layer (not necessary thin). Apply tissue paper over this layer, ensuring there is enough egg white to make the tissue stick to the face. Get into the corners of your nose. DO NOT cover your eyes and mouth, and avoid the more sensitive skin around these areas. Sometimes this takes practice. Once you look like a mummy, gently dab more egg white to the tissue, careful not to lift the tissue off your skin. Leave on about 15 minutes, or until the mask is completely dry. Then from the neck/chin upward to your forehead, gently peel the mask from your skin.

Wash face again with face wash to remove tissue and egg residue. Moisturizer is optional, though I didn’t apply any, so I could assess the effect on its own.

Your skin should feel smoother and your pores less noticeable. Some blackheads will be removed, you might even see them on the tissue. Others will be raised to the surface of the skin, making it easier to remove with an extractor, or with the next treatment, should you chose to try this again.

*****

One thing I did not read in any of the articles, is you could try steaming your face first, by placing a hot-wash cloth (not too hot) on your face for 10 minutes before applying the egg white. Or having a hot shower, and allowing the steam to open your pores and pre-soften the dirt for easier extraction or application of other masks and treatments.

Why would egg white work? The components of a drying egg white acts like a suction cup, regardless of which of the above methods you choose. As it dries, it not only infuses your skin with some of the benefits of the vitamins, it draws the dirt, oil, dead skin cells (the first few layer of your dermis) and toxins up to the skin’s surface, and some of it right out of your pores. Though the blackhead extraction method seems to work better as an exfoliation than the brightening method.

Now, after trying to blackhead removal, the pimple on the tip of my nose rose to the surface and reddened overnight. I am not alarmed, as my esthetic training gives me enough understanding of the “life-cycle” of a pimple from the beginning piece of dirt lodging in a pore, to the infection/inflammation to extraction. I have hurried the process by bringing the trapped toxins of the papule (a pimple without a head) closer to the surface. Soon enough the head will form to allow removal, and the healing can begin. This natural treatment, like most treatments will not work overnight. It is not a miracle cure. Nothing is, regardless of what commercial companies want you to believe or the price tag. Patience is needed. Tonight, I am going to try the mask again, and see what happens. Though for others, I don’t recommend this as part of a daily regimen. Egg white could be drying to the skin if used too much. Twice a week should be sufficient.

Also keep in mind pimples, blackheads and whiteheads come from a variety of sources: stress, lack of sleep, touching your face too much, bad diet and lack of exercise. To bring about change to your complexion, watch the stress, stay active, avoid fatty foods and dairy, take multi-vitamins, do not touch your face during the day, and make sure your sheets are frequently cleaned, in addition to developing a routine that is beneficial for your specific skin type.

And now, onto the leftover yolk! I looked this up to find a natural deep conditioner for your hair. Again, I’ve never tried it, and I don’t indorse it. Depending on the length of your hair, you might need one or two egg yolks. Beat the yolk(s) in a bowl. Add one tablespoon cold-pressed organic olive oil (1 tablespoon of baby oil can be substituted, apparently this will also make it smell better than olive oil) Add one cup of warm water to the mixture to make it easier to spread through the hair.

Wash your air with gentle shampoo. With your head tipped back, take half have the egg/oil mixture and pour over your roots. With the second half work into the ends with your hands. Comb through with your fingers (NEVER use a comb or brush on your hair when it’s wet, it causes damage to the weakened follicle. Only use a brush when it’s about 60% dry) Leave on for three minutes, and rinse in cold water.

OR you can apply two straight egg yolks to your hair, put a plastic cap on your hair, leave on for up to 30 minutes. Rinse in cool water.

Now you have used all the egg! Happy experimenting. If you decide to try any of these home treatments, let me know how it turns out J

Monday, October 17, 2011

I know I’m a klutz, no two ways about it. I almost always, place my wedding ring on an out-of-the-way shelf. But Saturday night, I put them on the counter beside the sink, the most dangerous place ever! I was washing my face, when my cat decided to jump on the counter and push her face into mine. I had soap in my eyes when I pushed her away and felt something against my hand, then the distinct ping of metal on porcelain.

Ahh hell, did my wedding ring just go into the drain? Turns out after a lengthy search, I had created the fast-moving series of events toward the “perfect storm” of losing my wedding ring. The bathroom hasn’t been finished being renovated, so the molding on the floor isn’t installed. The ring would’ve had to have fallen perfectly to be where it was. It was a miracle we’d even seen the ring. It was half behind the drywall, half under the wall framing, wedged between the top flooring and the 2x6.

My dad and I tried to get it out with pliers, but this ended with the ring disappearing altogether underneath the 2x6. So, at 10:30 at night, we sawed out a huge chunk of the bathroom wall, and the laundry room wall. We sliced through the 2x6 framing, ran knifes under the remaining wood, trying to find the ring.

We didn’t see the round cement support for the washing machine drain 4 inches to the left. When we did, I had a sick feeling that was exactly where my ring had ended up during the process. It was too dark to go under the house at 11pm and try to see where the pipe support went to.

8am Sunday morning, we were under the house tearing more stuff up, then back upstairs—and we broke a water pipe. We lasted three hours before we called a plumber (there might’ve been a better tradesperson to call, but regardless, we were dealing with a pipe, in a way, so a plumber it was). We also decided he could also look at the broken pipe while he was there, since we had to pay this $70.00 call fee, no matter the result of the visit. So today, it gets interesting. By this morning I had no hope. I hadn’t slept. I’d cried too much. Didn’t matter that my husband kept telling me it was an accident, he’d get me another one. Just wouldn’t be the same.

My brother stayed home to greet the plumber, who was supposed to phone me with a quote before he proceeded. Now I don’t call trades people that often, but this dude had to be the biggest joke ever invented. As I sit here writing, I’m debating why I didn’t call this post “The Only Reason The Plumber Is In One Piece, Is Because He Left Before I Got Home.”

My brother tried to explain what had happened. But when the plumber phoned me, he was clueless, mostly because the plumber wouldn’t allow my brother to complete a sentence before interrupting him. The guy ran on assumptions. So I filled him in via phone. He tried to talk over me, it was too bad. I can play this game, when I want something done, and when I am PAYING YOU TO DO IT, it will be done. I made sure he understood me—or I thought I had. I told him, feel free to rip up the flooring in the laundry room, because we are renovating. The plumber told me he can’t. Where he has to go has to be accessed from underneath the house.

Mr. Plumber gave me a long list of whys. Then told me in a sly voice there is a limited access fee because of where he has to go (the same place my dad was yesterday). He gave me a quote of 427.00 CAD, which he implied included the 70.00 call fee. I swallowed, and I mean hard. I can’t afford this, especially considering nothing is guaranteed—but I really, really wanted my ring back. I thought to myself, could we do this ourselves? Like come on, we’re amateurs, and the fact that my dad called a pro, told me how much he agreed. We already broke a pipe! How much more damage could we do before indefinite success?

He lectures my brother about how we should’ve done this ourselves (Am I paying you ¾ of a single one of my entire paychecks this close to Christmas, to voice your damned opinions?!). He belittled our efforts. How this isn’t a plumber’s job (his boss took the job even knowing what it was when he sent his employee), and how unsanitary it is to go underneath a house (that he voted to go in).

By the end, suffice to say he found my ring (don’t get me wrong, I’m happy about that). But it’s a mixed emotion at the moment. Given the fact how much work now lays ahead. I feel horrible—more so than I did before.

His precious quote I had to preapprove? Did not include him putting everything back together, after so carelessly shredding everything up. For him to do that, would be more money. The pipe we broke? All he had to do was take his wrench (which we didn’t own one that fit this particular pipe) and tighten it, he quoted my dad 168.00 CAD (screw that, we told him). My dad ended up fixing it himself this evening after a great deal of trial and error.

During the post conversation with my dad, the plumber let it slip that yes, going in from above, would’ve been messier and not any more work. You know what, that 300.00 limited access fee wouldn’t have applied had it done it the way I specifically asked him to. I came home to a total bill that was 580.00 CAD for an hour’s worth of work, and a torn to hell space under the house, where the now unprotected pipes are laid bare in the face of winter just around the corner, here in Canada.

Next Saturday, rain or shine, we’re off to the hardware store to get supplies to replace the insulation he took out, as well as new wood sheets to protect the pipes from freezing, and other bits and pieces.

Apparently, you can’t even trust referrals. We got these people’s names from someone we know at work, who swore by them. But, tomorrow is a new day, and that is one company that will have an earful. By the time my dad is through with them, they would’ve wished I was the one who phoned.

So that was my weekend adventure, one I hope I never, ever have to repeat.

I also have three more submissions I'm waiting word on, and as well as wrapping up the third book of the Foxworth Series, Kindred Fate. Book One, Death of Innocence and Book Two Natural Urges can be found at Solstice Publishing's Solstice At Night website.

Madam Clairette isn’t an average woman by anyone’s standards. She runs an unusual, multi-functional establishment that serves as a playground to both Doms and Subs, along with her carefully selected clients. Bethany’s boyfriend, Daniel, is confident he can bring Bethany into this world of primal sex and new adventures. But first, Bethany has to meet the Mistress of the house. Will Madam Clairette see the sensual beauty Daniel does, and allow the love of his life to accompany him into his universe?

Excerpt:

Prior to her arrival, Daniel warned Bethany there’d be a test. However, her boyfriend neglected to elaborate.

Sitting in the Mistress’ office, Bethany’s impatience showed when she tapped her foot on the plush carpet. The Mistress had requested the men’s presence. Would they bare witness to her analysis? Daresay, partake? God, she hoped for the latter. Just the thought of those strong hands on her body…Bethany shook her head. The Mistress had said something she hadn’t caught.

Pay attention

Madam Clairette cleared her throat. “Out of curiosity, when was the last time you had sex?”

.Bethany’s heart took on a furious beat. Her inner thighs grew wet. She thought of the last time she’d indulgenced in carnal pleasures. Daniel had bitten his way up the spot where her leg met her hips, teasing her before moving to her core. When had that been? Oh, yes. “A week or so. Daniel cut me off when you told him you wanted to see me.”

“Oh, now that’s just cruel of him! But predictable. He had tough teachers.” Madam Clairette leaned back in her chair. “We’ll fix that soon enough, won’t we, Luke?” The blonde to the Mistress’ left nodded. “First, we have a few more aspects to go over. Not only do I provide an excellent environment for our subs, doms, and guests to pander to their fantasies, I have systems set in place to ensure everyone is kept happy at all times,” the Mistress said. “If something, anything, is stricken off the list of what you are willing to do, I can ensure it does not happen.”

“How can you make this promise?”

“Do you think my men are so nicely built just to ride? There will be at least one, if not two at every event, strictly there to closely watch everything and enforce my rules. They are knowledgeable in all their charges, and these two…” She waved toward the men at her back. “…will keep a special eye on you until you get into the swing of things. Everyone who enters my house is carefully screened, so we rarely have any problems.”

Madam Clairette reached into a drawer of her desk, and pulled out a beautifully carved wooden box, setting it down between them. “The contents of this box means of distinction between you, and the rest under my employ. My clients know on sight what they are permitted to do to you without having to ask.” She slid the lid open. She pulled out a thin jeweler’s box and handed it to Bethany.

The box revealed an antiqued silver necklace. The metal encased brilliant garnets within the elegant ivy pattern. The finely detailed design was expensive, the weight heavy in Bethany’s hand.

“It is yours to keep. The garnet symbolizes your submission, and how you’ll be identified by the others of this household. The contrasting sapphire is set in a strongly colored metal of gold, a representation of their dominance. I am sure you’ve seen Daniel wear it.”

“Yes, I have. I wondered why he always wore it, though never asked why.”

Her attention shifted to the necks of the men behind the mistress, noting Luke wore a masculine version of the red one. Keegan’s neck flashed with blue, the setting brilliant gold and the pattern of harsh points contrasting the softer version of silver ivy. It was a clear distinction.

The Mistress’ hand dipped into the drawer again, emerged with thirty or so colored bangles. A quick check to the men showed neither wore any.

“And these represent something you won’t do. For instance, do you take it in the ass?”

Keegan chuckled at the blunt question.

Bethany prided herself on her lack of reaction. She could be brash when she wished to be. “Yes.”

“Though you insinuated this before, would you care for more than one man at a time?”

“Yes. I have never had more than three, though I’m willing to trying new things,” Bethany said.

“What about women?”

“I’ve never been with a woman.”

The Mistress placed a yellow bangle in front of her. Ahh, negotiations. Bethany’s breath caught in her throat. Would this harm her chances?

“It doesn’t mean...”

“When and if you feel the need to change it, you are welcome to do so. No one will tell you differently. Give yourself time to adjust.”

“Thank you.”

“Absolutely no thanks needed,” Madam Clairette said. “If there is ever a problem, no matter how small, come and tell me. We will discuss and do what we can to solve it. My door is always open to you, for anything at all. I want your time here to be comfortable. Promise me that, will you?”

Bethany breathed a sigh of relief. The mistress had spoken as if she’d already been accepted. “I promise. I know I will love it here.”

“Oh, so do I.”

***

I'm also excited to announce that Rhonda at Wiccan Wear Jewelry , who created the Coven Necklaces found on her website and Esty shop has The Interview right now. She's reading the short story to get a feel for two exclusivepieces for Madam Clairette's symbols of Submission and Dominance! More to come on that soon.

So, it's day six of using the quit smoking pill, Champix. I'm still in the mid-dose range. So far, the only side-effect I have is drowsiness--similar to what you'd feel on many allergy medicines, like Benedryl. I must admit, it's a decent change from the insomnia Zyban gave me years ago when I tried that. The only strange thing is, I can sleep all day and still wake up tired. On Sunday, one day into the treatment, I slept until noon, which was unlike me. I woke up, took my morning pill with the recommended full glass of water and had something to eat. But within three hours, I fell asleep while laying down with my laptop to edit. With all of this sleep, I still hit the hay at midnight, with undisturbed sleep. Typically, if I have a nap, I can't sleep at night.

I'm coming to the conclusion Champix must work! You'll sleep through the whole process, including withdrawal. Let's face it, how much can you smoke, if you're unconscious?

Anyway, the I suppose the pill isn't supposed to really start to work until you're on the full regular dose of 20mg a day. But in the mornings, right after the pill, the smell of smoke is starting to disgust me. I'll take this as a good sign. But I will admit I have reduced my cigarettes-per-day some, but I don't think I can credit the pill with that yet.

Sunday, October 9, 2011

Well, I decided to take another try at quitting smoking. The problem I’ve had in the past is I like smoking. It gives me a reason to take a break from writing or design, so I can step and think. Flimsy excuse, I know, but true.

But it’s more the health issues spurring this decision. I’d heard from someone I knew a few weeks ago, and I found out his Mother passed away. This shocked me. Yes, I knew she was sick, and on top of that had cancer—from smoking and other issues. She’d gone in for an operation to remove the tumor, and a week later, she went in for a checkup. Doctor told her she was cancer free. That same day, she went home, had a nap, woke up having trouble breathing—after having a cigarette. The ambulance was called, but she died before she reached the hospital.

In the face of tragedy in the weeks following, you start to look inward, and wonder. It’s difficult not to know the downfalls of smoking in this day and age, where the act is fast becoming taboo. I still think one day, the government will ban tobacco altogether, and make it illegal. And perhaps, they should.

Anyway, back to the matter at hand. I debated all my quit-smoking options. We return to the fact that I like smoking, which makes it an feat to stop on my own. The patches (which make me sick, even if I don’t have a cigarette), the gum (ew, hate the taste, why would this ENCOURAGE me to use it?), the inhaler (never tried it, but I haven’t heard great things), the electronic cigarette that emits nicotine and water vapor (have to order online, and know someone using it, so I’m waiting to see how that goes). I’m not into the group therapy thing provided for the government—either I kick it on my own, with support of the people I know, or I don’t. And then, there are the pills.

There are three bands that I know of. Wellburtin (Generic Zyban), Zyban and Champix. When I was seventeen, I tried to quit the first time with Zyban when it first came out as a quit-aid (formerly known as an antidepressant, but the patience discovered the deceased need for nicotine). Because I was little more than a kid at seventeen, the doctor would only prescribe me seven days worth. And boy, did they work! The side effect I got was major insomnia. I did not sleep a wink for the duration (wasn’t tired during the day either). But after I ran out—well, I started back up within a month, because I’d lived and hung out with smokers, I was with all of the time. I took Wellburtin and Zyban later in life. Wellburtin made me twitchy and hypersensitive, and the second dose of Zyban a few years later didn’t do a thing—I think because I might have developed an immunity to it, or I wasn’t as gung-ho about quitting.

This time, I did my research. Champix was recommended to me by my pharmacist. He said amazing stuff about it. So after my search on the computer, I found out some disturbing facts. As I’ve said, Zyban is an antidepressant. On the other hand, Champix could magnify depression. Make you suicidal or homicidal—or both, possibly hallucinations and paranoia. Of course, the biggest worry of doctors in the sight of all this? Raised blood pressure. I had to read that three times, and not before I read the whole article again. They saved that fact for last?

So, when I went in to talk to the doctor yesterday, I told him all about the above. Typical. Most doctors DO NOT like patients who do research. They figure you’re either a hypochondriac or a self-diagnoser. But I was guilty, I suppose. I asked for Zyban. Yes, it hadn’t worked in the past, but the side-effects of Champix freaked me out. But the doctor had other ideas. He took my blood pressure, said it was normal, and prescribed me a 12-week program of Champix. He told me I worried too much about the side effects, since I admitted I typically don’t get most of them. Maybe one, if I have a bad reaction (like the insomnia). If Zyban didn’t work last time, was it really worth it?

I talked to some people, read more customer experiences, who’d taken this drug. Some react to it by becoming extremely irritated—and it was pointed out to me, if you quit solo, you would anyway—though many don’t get any of the side-effects. So, I’ll try it…

Who, knows maybe it will work? Maybe it won’t, or I will react to it, and stop taking it. Then, I’ll try something else. Right now, I’m on the second day of low-dose. Time will tell on Tuesday when I go mid-dose, or next Saturday when I’m on the full dose.

Kayden McLeod is a paranormal and fantasy author, who dreams big, and writes bigger. She gets her inspirations from all manners of life and events that surround her. She is best known for her paranormal books, the Coven Series. Now, she embarks on new adventures in the dark world of Shadowdyn, found in the pages of the Demon Queen Series. As well, she has started to write her first YA fantasy books under the name Kinsey Knight.

She is an award winning Cover and Graphic Artist, and the co-owner of Otherworlds Publicity. In the past, she's completed cover art for a variety of publishers, although her freelance makes up most of her portfolio.

She co-owns Siren Book Reviews, an inspiration Brigit Aine and herself dreamed up. A site devoted to reviewing qualityfiction, and creating a home dedicated to their reviewers.